The Moghul Part 103

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Hawksworth heard the exultant cheer of the Rajputs riding behind him and snapped awake. It was midmorning of the third day and he had been dozing fitfully in the saddle since dawn, fatigue deep in his bones. Through the trees ahead the camp of Prince Jadar lay spread before them, blanketing half the valley.

"I told you we'd make the camp in three days' ride." Vasant Rao smiled wearily at Hawksworth and spurred his lathered mount forward. "Every man with us is eager to be with the prince."

They had covered, it seemed to Hawksworth, well over a hundred miles since departing the environs of Fatehpur. Between five and six hundred Rajputs rode behind them, all heavily armed with an array of swords, pikes, clubs, saddle-axes. Each man's body armor, a woven network of steel and the quilted garment worn beneath it, was secured behind his saddle, ready to be donned for combat. Hanging at the side of each rider was a round leather shield and a large quiver containing his horn bow and arrows. None carried muskets.

Hawksworth glanced back at Shirin, who rode a few paces behind, and they shared a tired smile. She had ridden the distance like a Rajput, but now her eyes were glazed with weariness. He had suddenly realized, the morning after they all galloped out of the camp at Fatehpur, that he had never before seen a woman in India ride. Where had she learned?

He had pondered the question for an hour, riding behind her to watch her easy posture in the saddle, and then he had pulled alongside and asked her point-blank. She said nothing, merely smiled and tossed the loose strands of hair back from her face. He understood her well enough to know this meant she had never ridden before . . . and didn't wish Vasant Rao to know.

"This is the moment I've waited for so long." She reined her mount alongside Hawksworth's, reached out and touched his hand. "You must help the prince now too."

"I'm not so sure I'm eager to die for Prince Jadar."

"You can always go back to Agra. And wait to be murdered by Janahara's guards. The prince has saved your life, and mine, once already. What makes you think he'll bother with you again?"

"To tell the truth, he also saved my life several months ago, the night we made landfall at Surat and were ambushed on the Tapti River by the Portugals."

"I know." She spurred her horse ahead. "I received the pigeon from Prince Jadar ordering it. I pa.s.sed the message to the Shahbandar, Mirza Nuruddin, who sent his personal Rajputs to protect you."

Hawksworth urged his horse back alongside. "So I was right. You were one of Jadar's agents in Surat. What did Nadir Sharif once call them .

. . _swanih-nigars_?"

"I gathered information for the prince." She smiled in consent. "I kept his accounts and coded his ciphers at the old observatory. Then you came along and started combing through it. You made my work that much more difficult. I never knew when you'd decide to go out there. Or what you'd find."

"Why didn't you just tell me? What did I care?"

"Too much was at risk. The prince once said never to trust a _topiwallah_."

Hawksworth laughed. "But surely Mukarrab Khan knew what you were doing?"

"I think he probably guessed. But what could he do? He was only the governor, not Allah. He finally forbade me to go into the palace grounds alone. When I refused to obey, he thought of sending you to the observatory, just to annoy me." She smoothed the mane of her horse. "So I think he knew I was doing something there. But he was too entangled by his own intrigues for Janahara to really care."

"Mukarrab Khan worked for the queen? How?"

"Two ways. Naturally he gathered intelligence for her, mainly about the Portuguese. But he also collected her Portuguese revenues at the ports of Surat and Cambay."

"Her revenues? I thought all duties went to the Moghul's Imperial treasury."

Shirin stifled a smile. "That's what Arangbar thinks too. And at Surat it's mostly true. She collects very little. Mirza Nuruddin despises her and always finds devious ways to muddle her accounts, probably keeping some of her money for himself. But the Shahbandar at the port of Cambay, where Mukarrab Khan used to go every two weeks, would accept bribes from the Portuguese to undervalue their goods, and then split the money with Mukarrab Khan and Janahara." She paused to watch a bright-winged bird dart past. "Arangbar could never understand why his revenue from Cambay was so low. I heard he's thinking about closing the port." She laughed. "If only he knew it's going mostly to Janahara."

Hawksworth rode silently for a moment, thinking. "You know, Nadir Sharif once proposed the same arrangement for English goods, if I would trade with him personally through the port of Cambay. I ignored him. I suspected he planned to find some way to confiscate the goods later on, claiming nonpayment of duty."

"No, on that I think Nadir Sharif would have been very fair. He always honors his agreements, with friend or foe." She looked ahead, her weary eyes brightening as they approached the first jumble of tents and roaming livestock that formed the edge of the camp. Servants in soiled _dhotis _were leading camels bearing huge baskets of fodder along the makeshift streets between the tents. "But their swindle will be finished when Prince Jadar becomes Moghul. He despises the Portuguese traders and their Christian priests."

The perimeter of the compound reserved for Jadar and his _zenana _was clearly visible now, towering above the center of the camp. It was bordered by a ten-foot-high wall of billowing red chintz, decorated with a white hem at the top and held up with gilded poles s.p.a.ced no more than two feet apart. Spreading out around it were cl.u.s.ters of smaller tents--red and white striped cloth for n.o.blemen, and onesided lean-to shelters ranging from brocade to ragged blankets for their troops.

"The prince asked that we all ride directly to the _gulal bar_, his personal compound," Vasant Rao shouted back over his shoulder at Hawksworth. "I think he'll particularly want to see you, Captain."

Cheers erupted as they entered the camp. Tents emptied and infantrymen lined the sides of the wide avenue leading to Jadar's compound, beating their swords against their leather shields. As Hawksworth studied the forest of flying standards spreading out on either side, he suddenly realized that each _mansabdar _n.o.bleman was flying his own insignia above his cl.u.s.ter of tents.

Ahead, rising upward from the center of Jadar's compound, was a pole some fifty feet high with a huge vessel of burning oil secured on its tip. Hawksworth examined the flame with astonishment, then drew his horse alongside Vasant Rao's.

"Why's there a light in the middle of the camp? It can be seen for miles?"

"That's called the _akas-diya_, Captain, the Light of Heaven. It's the Great Camp Light and it's used by everyone to keep their bearings at night. How else could a man find his tent? There are probably fifty thousand men here, with their women and servants. In the evenings, after all the cow-dung fires are lighted for cooking, it's so smoky here you can't see your own tent till you're practically in it."

"This camp's a town almost the size of London. How do the people live?"

"The camp bazaar travels with us, Captain. But you're right. It is a city; merely one that moves." He gestured around them. "The prince of course has his own personal supplies, but everyone else must shift for himself. See those small tents on the street over there, between those two high poles bearing standards. That's one of the bazaars for the _banyas_, Hindu merchants who follow the army and sell grain, oil, _ghee_, rice, _dal_, everything you'd find in any town. They feed the men. The horses are fed by sending servants out to gather fodder. They cut gra.s.s and bring it back on camels, or baggage ponies, or even on their own head. On a long campaign many of the men bring their women, to cook and carry water. The women have to bring water from any wells or streams nearby." He laughed. "Incidentally, I should warn you the prices these _banyas _ask are as inflated as the market will bear."

"For once I can't fault the merchants. They may well be out of buyers soon."

Vasant Rao snorted and whipped his horse ahead. They were approaching the entry to Jadar's compound, a wide silk awning with the prince's banners flying from atop its posts. On either side stood rows of ornate red tents with yellow fringe along the eaves. As Hawksworth rode by, he noticed a high open tent on the left holding caged hunting leopards.

Next to it stood a ma.s.sive canopy, surrounded by guards, sheltering light artillery. He squinted against the sun to look inside and caught a glimpse of several dozen small-bore cannon mounted on carriages. He also noticed swivel guns fitted with a harness on their base, obviously intended to be mounted atop elephants or camels. In the center were several stacks of long-barreled Indian muskets wrapped in cloth. The last tent on the left, adjacent to the gate, sheltered several gilded palanquins and a row of immaculate bullock carts for Jadar's _zenana _women.

On the opposite side of the avenue was a row of stables for elephants, camels, and horses. Turbaned grooms were busy brushing the animals and fitting harness. Next to the stables were quarters for the animals'

superintendents.

"Does all this belong to Jadar?"

"These are for the prince, his women, and guards. Each n.o.bleman also has his own stables and light artillery. The top command is split three ways: with separate field commanders for the Rajputs, for the Muslims, for the men of Moghul descent." Vasant Rao smiled reflectively. "It's always wisest not to mix. For one thing, each needs its own bazaar; no Rajput would eat food handled by an untouchable Muslim."

Their horses drew into the shade of the awning above the entrance to the gulal bar. Vasant Rao and the other Rajputs reined in their mounts and began to dismount.

"This is the _naqqara-khana_, Captain Hawksworth, the entry to His Highness' private compound." Vasant Rao waved toward the red awning.

"Come. You'll be welcomed warmly by the prince, I promise you. I know he'd hoped you'd join him."

Hawksworth swung down from his dark mare and stroked her one last time, wiping away the lather around the saddle. Then he turned to help Shirin alight. She leaned over and dropped into his arms, the sweat of exhaustion mingled with her perfume.

Grooms from Jadar's stables were already waiting. As they took the horses, the leader of the Rajput riders shouted staccato orders to them in Urdu, the lingua franca of the camp, then turned and dismissed his men, who immediately swaggered into the gathering crowd to embrace old acquaintances.

"His Highness is expecting you." Vasant Rao smiled and bowed lightly to the Rajput commander, who was tan and beardless save for a small moustache, with a white skirt, a small turban of braided gold cloth, and a velvet-sheathed katar in a red waist sash. The Rajput nodded, then adjusted his turban and retrieved a tightly wrapped brocade bundle from behind his saddle. As he led the way through the _naqqara-khana_, Vasant Rao turned and motioned for Hawksworth and Shirin to follow.

Jadar's guards directed them along a pathway of carpets leading through the outer barbican. Ahead was another gate, decorated with striped chintz and sealed with a hanging tapestry. As they approached it, the guards swept the tapestry aside and ushered them through.

The second compound was floored entirely with carpets and in its center stood an open, satin canopy held aloft by four gilded poles. The canopy shaded a rich Persian carpet and a throne fashioned from velvet bolsters. Several men with shoulder-high kettledrums and long bra.s.s trumpets were waiting nearby.

As Hawksworth watched, two eunuchs emerged through a curtain at the far gate and lifted it high. While a fanfare of drums and trumpets filled the air, Prince Jadar strolled jauntily through the entryway, alone.

He was dressed formally, with an elaborate silk cloak in pastel blue and a jeweled turban that reminded Hawksworth of the one worn by the Moghul himself. The brocade sash at his waist held a heavy katar with a ruby on each side of the handle. His beard was close-trimmed, accenting his dark eyes. Nothing about him suggested the appearance of a man facing impending defeat.

"Nimaste, Mahdu, my old friend." Jadar walked directly to the Rajput commander, grasped the man's turban and pressed it to his own breast.

"How long since we sat together and ate your Udaipur _lapsi _from the same dish?"

"The New Year's festival of _diwali _two years past, Highness. In my brother's palace. And I wore the gold cloak you gave me in honor of the treaty between your armies and his, five years before."